


standing in a timeless dream

by owilde



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Presents, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: “Do you need any help?” A voice asks faintly from somewhere behind Josh.He takes his earbuds off, the sound of Harry Styles drifting away, and turns his head. “Sorry?”A worker looks back at him with a smile. He’s wearing a Santa hat with a bell at the tip – it keeps ringing with his movements. “Can I help in any way?” He asks again. His smile takes a dip towards something more genuine. “You look a little… lost.”





	standing in a timeless dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, so it's a given that everybody lives and no one's irredeemably mad at Josh for anything. Anything else that seems like it's not canon, I've probably taken creative liberties with. Mostly character ages and stuff, I think.
> 
> Anyway, this was written for the Until Dawn Secret Santa Exchange! It was a pleasure to participate, this was my first time ever. Might do it again.
> 
> Title taken from Donna Lewis' "I Love You Always Forever."

Josh stares at the row of handmade soaps, mugs and tea assortments with squinted eyes. He can feel sweat trickling down his back – the parka had been, admittedly, a mistake. But it’s partially Chris’ fault, Josh wants to believe; he’d left it right there on the coat rack, right on the same nail where Josh usually keeps his own coat, and he honestly should’ve known that Josh, bleary eyed and not yet zapped on caffeine, wouldn’t recognize the difference.

The parka’s nice insofar as it’s Chris’, and smells like him. But on the other hand, it’s a death trap of heat. The fur lining of the hood tickles his ears whenever Josh even marginally turns his head.

The more he stares at the items on the shelf, the more he wants to call it quits. Maybe go grab a cup of iced coffee and rip the parka off. Maybe dunk the iced coffee on his head.

But alas, it’s the day before Christmas, and Josh is, as always, woefully unprepared. Chris told him, rather animatedly, when he found Josh “the perfect present ever, dude, you’re gonna fucking _lose_ it”. That had been the 5th of November. Said perfect present is now wrapped and lying under their sorry excuse of a Christmas tree.

Josh’s contributions to the present pile so far have been a chocolate bar he’d bought in panic, and a pair of ugly socks, probably two sizes too small. It’s not a great contribution, he thinks – and while Chris has assured him that he doesn’t need anything, Josh is damned if he’s not getting Chris something _meaningful_. Or at least pretty.

He’s quickly losing hope, though. In the past, Josh has gotten away easily – Chris is a certified nerd, and buying presents for certified nerds doesn’t require more than a quick internet search for merch for whatever franchise he was into at the time.

Not this year, though.

He’s scoured through every other shop in the mall, and has come up with fuck all. Josh takes another look at the shelf, as if the items would’ve magically transformed into just what he needs in the blink of an eye. They haven’t.

“Do you need any help?” A voice asks faintly from somewhere behind Josh.

Josh takes his earbuds off, the sound of Harry Styles drifting away, and turns his head to look. “Sorry?”

A worker looks back at him with a smile. He’s wearing a Santa hat with a bell at the tip – it keeps ringing with his movements. He looks about Josh’s age, if a little younger, and not nervous enough for someone working retail during the holiday season. “Can I help in any way?” He asks again. His smile takes a dip towards something more genuine. “You look a little… lost.”

Josh laughs nervously, but it comes out as more of a huff. Lost is an understatement. “Yeah, probably. I’m just looking for something for my… girlfriend.” He stutters on the word, and feels his stomach lurch. It happens sometimes, that he slips. Sometimes, he gets scared and what comes out is a lie. Sometimes it’s an avoidance. Sometimes, he doesn’t give a fuck.

He hopes the latter would happen more often. Chris says it’s a matter of practice, and that besides, he doesn’t mind. Josh has a long list of things that Chris probably should mind, but for some reason, doesn’t.

The worker nods with a slight twinkle in his eye. “You’re just a bit late,” he scolds gently, and steps closer beside Josh, eyes firmly fixed on the shelves. “What does she like, then? Something cutesy or something less so, or…?”

Josh blinks. “Uh,” he starts. What does Chris like? “H– she likes, uh. Nothing heavily scented, I guess. Tea’s alright. Coffee’s more my thing.” He eyes the rows of heteronormative nightmare creations, pulling a face at the “ _Mr. Wrong & Mrs. Always Right!_” mugs. “Nothing super traditional, you know.”

The worker follows his line of sight, and chuckles. “Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly… modern. That’s what you get in a vintage store though, right?”

Josh tears his eyes away. “I guess.” He hesitates, eyes fixed on a light blue soap bar. He’s twenty-goddamn-two. He can admit to having a fucking boyfriend, can’t he? “Look, it’s not… it’s not for my girlfriend.” He clears his throat. “There’s this guy, right, and we moved in together this fall and it’s our first holiday together. It’s special, you know? And we’ve been together for a forever, so at this point it’s like, what can I get him that I haven’t before? And I don’t know, Star Trek merch loses its magic at some point.”

Josh doesn’t move his eyes away until the silence gets too uncomfortable. He glances over at the worker, who’s smiling at him with a soft look in his eyes. “You sound like a terrible person to get a gift from,” he says, not unkindly, “but a good boyfriend. We can work with that.”

Josh eyes him hesitantly. “We can?”

The worker nods confidently, and extends his hand. “For sure. I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Josh,” he says, and shakes the offered hand, hoping his palms don’t feel as sweaty as he thinks they do.

Peter smiles. “Okay, Josh. Now, what’s your special guy’s name?”

“Chris,” Josh says, and feels his lips curl into an involuntary smile.

Peter nods again, as if knowing Chris’ name is some kind of magical insight into what he’s like as a person. “And what does Chris like?”

Josh looks around them, huffing a laugh. “Nothing that’s in here, I bet. He’s more of a, uh… tech guy. But I’m kind of losing time, and getting desperate. Maybe he can branch into soaps or something.”

“Right.” Peter looks more amused than Josh thinks he had any right to. “So, the epitome of a modern man? Glued to his phone, tweet notifications turned on for dozens of people, always complaining about the lack of connection?”

Josh thinks back on their date nights being interrupted by the pinging of Chris’ phone, before they made a deal to turn everything on silent. “Something like that, yeah,” he says. “So, you know, as much as I’m sure he’d pretend to love a…” He tilts his head to read the label of a tea box. “… Winter’s Blush tea blend, that’s probably not what’s going to light him up, you know?”

“Maybe not,” Peter agrees. He looks thoughtful for a second. “And you have to have it done by tomorrow?”

Josh nods with a sigh, mentally imagining himself strangling a physical manifestation of his stress. For some reason, it looks kind of like Mike. “I can’t even make anything myself, I’m not exactly good at anything useful.”

Peter bits his lip, assessing Josh. “You’re a student? College?”

Josh nods. “Yeah. Film studies.”

Peter tilts his head and fixes him a look of some kind of disbelief mixed with pure amusement. “Dude,” he starts, raising a brow. “I assume you can edit stuff, then? Probably fix a nice video together?”

Josh shrugs. He doesn’t like complimenting himself, but he’s not too shabby, really. “Yeah, I suppose. I’ve done some stuff.”

Peter keeps looking at him with the same expression. “Yes, and I also assume you’ve probably filmed _some_ kind of clips with this dude? Or at least some pictures?”

His idea finally dawns on Josh, who blinks in understanding. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, and feels like the biggest fucking idiot there is. “You’re saying I should edit a thing of us? Like, a video of our relationship?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Peter says, emphatically. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you’ve got the skills, and no better idea, why not? I bet he’d love it, too. It’s better than the mugs we sell here, in any case.”

Josh side-eyes the row of Mr. & Mrs mugs again. “Yeah, no offense but they’re pretty terrible, honestly.”

Peter looks kind of pained. “Needs must,” he gives as an explanation, which Josh can very easily get behind. He thinks back on his own odd jobs here and there, and especially the one commercial he’s done that Chris likes to randomly play from his phone from time to time, just to watch Josh collapse in on his own shame.

Comparatively, retail’s not bad at all.

“I hear ya,” he says, and goes in to shake Peter’s hand again. “Thanks so much, you’ve saved my Christmas, probably.”

Peter shakes his head, laughing. “No problem,” he says. “Go woo your man. And hey, if he expresses interest in soap...” He shrugs. “We’re always here.”

Josh shoots him a grin and leaves with a wave, making a quick exit from the mall before he can drown in his own sweat. The walk from there to their apartment isn’t a long one – Josh’s steps feel almost springy as he starts walking, dodging the crowd of other last minute shoppers. He has a feeling in his chest, excitement mixed with trepidation, which feels almost like an energizing spike – a spark he hopes will let him finish the video in time for the next day.

It’s snowing – the flakes catch in his hair and melt against his rosy cheeks, bitten by the harsh wind. Suddenly the parka is a good call again. Josh pushes against the weather, mapping vague plans inside his mind on what to do.

He has an old memory stick somewhere with home videos of him and Chris, aged five and upwards, always filmed by either one of their parents – it’s been too long for anyone to distinguish between them anymore.

They detail the tail end of their golden, crisp childhood – the easy smiles and good natured insults, their still round faces and clothes picked by their mothers – and transition into the beginning of their teens years.

Those are harder to look back on. Josh can see the tension in the set of his jaw, and the worry in Chris’ eyes – he can read the chaos in his mind, and knows it was confusing to everyone else, too. There’s a lot less touching for a while, too, almost like a wall between him and Chris. Josh can’t remember who put it up first. Possibly him.

But something snaps then, at some junction. The film switches, and they’re attached by the hip again. Hesitant touches, unsure glances – something Josh thinks maybe their parents shouldn’t have been filming, if only because he can still see the fear in him and Chris, and it’s uncomfortable and raw and makes Josh feel bad for who he used to be.

The home videos stop, and are replaced by their own. Clips filmed with their phones, some filmed by their friends. One where Josh set up the camera to capture Chris’ face when Josh asked him to move in with him.

That one is the most special one, engagement videos pending. But that’ll probably take a while.

Josh can make something out of it. This is what he fucking _studies,_ isn’t it? Only this feels different. This isn’t homework, this is… Chris. And him. And them.

He’s never been too good with words, and this feels like an opportunity to say more than he can usually express.

Josh shakes the snowflakes out of his hair and types in the code to their apartment building, before striding the stairs up two at a time to the third floor.

Chris is not home from work yet – his last day before the holidays – so Josh takes his laptop with him to the living room and settles on the couch, headphones in. The side of the armrest digs slightly into his back, but he ignores it in favor of putting the memory stick in and copying the files on to a new folder.

The rows of thumbnails stare back at him from his screen, years of memories compressed into neat mp4 files, and Josh has to take a moment to mentally thank their parents for preserving these. He thinks he’d remember some nonetheless, but memory is a tricky thing.

He clicks on the first file. A small window pops up, and starts playing a clip of Josh and Chris in the backyard of the Hartley house. The audio lags a little behind, and gets distorted at points, but it’s still their voices, bickering over who gets to use the cooler fake sword in their duel.

“Fine!” Younger Josh exclaims angrily. “You can keep it, but just because you’re so _bad_ you need it to compete with _me_.”

Josh smiles as the duel starts – they’re evenly matched, until Chris changes tactics and simply tackles Josh to the ground. They collapse in a mess of limbs and shouts, and the camera shakes as Chris’ mom starts laughing at them.

“Cheater!” Young Josh calls out from underneath Chris. “That’s not _fair_!”

“I win!” Chris says, pointing the side of his sword against Josh’s throat. “See? I’m a better pirate than you. Pirates _always_ fight dirty, I told you.”

The clip ends as Josh retaliates by starting to tickle Chris, both of them rolling on the grass in a fit of giggles. As the screen goes dark, Josh can see his reflection, smiling stupidly at their old antics.

It’s been so long. He doesn’t remember this day, but as he combs through the rest of the footage, some things stick out. The further in he gets, the more he recalls.

There’s a short clip from Christmas of 2010, which Josh remembers vividly – it’s a few days after they got together, and it’s evident from the video that they can’t stop staring at each other. Josh can’t help but wonder whether his mom ever noticed the signs, filming the two of them on the couch next to each other, exchanging shy smiles with the backs of their hands just barely touching.

He thinks she must not have – his coming out was a shock to her. With Hannah and Beth, not so much – but they’d always known him better. There wasn’t a thing he could keep from them, and there was nothing he really even wanted to.

He should call them, Josh thinks absently. Wish them happy holidays. Hannah would be working, doing her freelance thing over the holidays. Beth was going back home, and bringing Sam with her for the first time.

Josh isn’t worried – everything had gone fine the first time he’d brought Chris over as officially his boyfriend. But there was still that ever present concern, the quiet nagging in his brain that somehow, something would go wrong. So, he’ll call. Maybe they could skype.

The clock’s ticking towards six by the time Josh has chosen which clips to use, and arranged them in the right order. It doesn’t feel as mechanical as school work – he’s still crafting a story, but this time, he’s starring in it.

At 6:45 pm, the lock rattles, and the front door is pushed open. Chris steps in, his hair covered in snow, and shoots Josh a tired smile that still manages to shine like a fucking star, because it’s Chris.

Josh takes his headphones off and tilts his screen carefully away from Chris’ line of view. “Well, if it isn’t my very own Prince Charming,” he drawls with a lazy smile, “finally home from working _tirelessly_ to bring home the bacon–”

“Shut up, man,” Chris mumbles, but he’s grinning. He toes his shoes off and is about to hang his coat up when he notices the parka that’s still wet from the snow. He raises a brow at Josh. “You took my coat?”

Josh averts his eyes back to the laptop screen. “Didn’t mean to,” he says. “I don’t know how you fucking survive in that thing, it’s a goddamn furnace.”

He hears Chris snort, and then his footsteps trail closer until Chris sits down on the other side of the couch, letting his head tilt backwards with a content sigh. Josh instinctively lifts his feet in Chris’ lap, and feels something warm in his chest at the domestic picture they make up.

“What a day,” Chris says, his eyes closed. “There was this one guy – I don’t know what his problem was, but he wouldn’t agree with me on _anything_ about the site design.” He takes on his customer service voice. “Well, how about gray, sir? No? Blue? No? White? No? Well, what color would you like? Oh, gray? But I asked about it – oh, not gray after all?” He pauses, and opens his eyes, tilting his head towards Josh. “A _nightmare_ ,” he pronounces gravely.

Josh nods understandingly. “I told you to switch jobs.”

Chris gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Next year,” he says. “That’s my New Year’s vow, or whatever. I’m getting the hell out of dodge.”

“Do what Hannah does,” Josh suggests. He opens a tab on songs that came out the year they were born, and starts skimming through it. “Become the master of your own destiny.”

“Ugh,” Chris says, eloquently. “Freelancing takes effort.”

“True,” Josh allows, “But you’d be rid of your shitty boss, terrible pay and horrendous customers.”

Chris makes an agreeing face. “When you put it like that.” He glances at the laptop, and then at Josh. “What’re you doing? School stuff?”

Josh pauses, halfway through his YouTube search on I Love You Always Forever. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ve got this stupid project we need to finish during the break.”

“What’s it about?” Chris asks, and Josh curses him in his head for being an attentive boyfriend.

“Uh, it’s this...” He racks his brain. “We have to make a trailer for a romcom,” he settles on saying. “Like, real cheesy shit. I’ll show it to you when it’s done.”

Chris doesn’t question him on it. They remain on the couch until Chris leaves to take a shower, and Josh starts making final adjustments to the video. It’s turning out nice – it’s sappy as hell, and Josh thinks he might get cavities from editing it, but it’s just right for them.

By the time they turn in for bed, the final product is saved on his laptop under the title of, “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

 

*

 

Morning dawns on them with a new flurry of snow. Josh wakes up too early in the middle of a very nice dream when Chris rolls over in bed and accidentally smacks him in the ribs with the back of his hand. Josh blinks his eyes open and glares half-heartedly in Chris’ direction.

Chris, still asleep, is snoring lightly. His hair’s sticking up, and his glasses are on the bedside table. Josh takes a moment to just look, his eyes tracing across Chris’ features. It’s rare that he wakes up first, and ever rarer that Chris is still at home if he does.

Chris looks beautiful, untouched by the world for this one moment in time. Josh smiles softly, watching his chest rise and fall with his steady breathing.

Then he sits up, takes his pillow, and brings it down on Chris’ chest.

“Wh–” Chris startles, his eyes quickly finding Josh, who’s smiling smugly. He glances at the pillow, like it had personally offended him, then squints again at Josh. “What did you do that for?”

“You woke me up,” Josh tells him. “You and your uncontrollable limbs. Revenge is sweet, cochise.”

Chris groans, and buries his face in his pillow. He mumbles something, muffled by the pillow, and when Josh asks, he tilts his head and repeats, “Where’s your Christmas spirit, huh?”

“Left it in the living room,” Josh says.

Chris frowns. “Living room?”

Josh flops back down on the bed beside him, stealing his pillow back and clutching it against his chest. “Yup. Are we doing presents now, or later? Because I’m good with either, but I figured maybe it’s better for my blood pressure to get it done sooner.”

“What time is it, even?” Chris asks. He turns his head towards the digital clock on the bedside table, before presumably realizing he’s not wearing his glasses. He sighs. “I repeat my question.”

Josh cranes his neck to take a look at the glowing red numbers. “A little past eight,” he tells Chris. “You blind mole.”

“I find that offensive,” Chris says absently, and reaches for his glasses. He turns around with them firmly in place, and blinks at Josh, a smile forming on his lips. “I always forget how nice you look in the morning.”

Josh wants to say, _that’s not fair, you forget you can’t see yourself and the absolute goddamn beauty you are_ , but what comes out is, “My ravishing looks aren’t limited to mornings.”

Chris laughs – Josh thinks maybe his laugh could cure everything bad in the world. “Shut up,” he says, which Josh takes to mean, _you’re right_. “We can do presents now. Mine’s hidden in my sock drawer.”

There are nerves bubbling in Josh’s stomach, perhaps unreasonably so but undoubtedly still there. Some would claim he’s a perfectionist and potentially a little neurotic. Those people would be right, but it’s not like he hasn’t been working on getting better in therapy. “I thought yours was under the tree?”

Chris shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “I have a secret one.”

Josh raises his brows, but when Chris doesn’t seem to want to elaborate, he lets it go. “You get yours, I’ll go get mine,” he decides, and sidles out of bed. The cold floor hits his feet, but Josh ignores it and pads over to the living room to retrieve his laptop.

Once he gets back, Chris is sitting on the bed, biting his lower lip as the turns a small present over in his hands. He looks up as Josh enters, his eyes zeroing in on the laptop. He lifts a curious brow. “What the hell did you get me?”

“You’ll see,” Josh says and sits down in front of him, his legs crossed. His stomach flutters again, and he swallows air. “You go first.”

Chris looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Josh urges. “Mine’s… Just, you go first, alright?”

Chris turns considerably paler, which in itself is already an achievement. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Okay,” he says, slowly. He’s not looking at Josh. “Uh, well. Um.” He hands the present over. “Just open it first, I guess, and then I can explain.”

Josh takes the gift-wrapped box. It’s not heavy – it feels like there’s nothing inside it. He starts tearing the wrapping paper away with a frown. Underneath, there’s a small wooden box, nondescript and dark. Josh removes the cover to find a small business card inside.

He takes it gingerly in his hands and reads – and for a second, everything is frozen in time.

 

_Jackson Jewelry, 4 th Avenue & 31st Street_

_Wedding & Engagement Rings_

_Commission Works_

 

Josh looks up at Chris, eyes wide. His heart doesn’t seem to understand when he quietly tells it to calm the fuck down. “Did you…”

Chris is wringing his hands nervously, and he’s looking at Josh with a slight flush on his cheeks. “I didn’t want to get something you wouldn’t like,” he starts, his voice shaking only marginally. “I thought, you know, we could look together. If you want to, I mean. But I guess that’s the question, right?” He laughs a little, and clears his throat. “Joshua Washington, do you–”

“Yeah,” Josh interrupts before he can finish, his voice hoarse and his skin on fire. “Yeah, I do, alright? I do. Of course I fucking do.”

“You do?” Chris repeats. He clears his throat again. “I mean, I know it’s a big thing and a big commitment, and we’re still pretty young and–”

Josh doesn’t need to hear more. He doesn’t particularly want to – all he wants, right now, is to be closer. So he does the only rational thing he can think of, and leans closer to cut Chris off with a kiss. When he pulls away, Chris is looking at him with something unspoken and undeniably soft in his eyes.

“I do,” Josh repeats, quietly. “Shut up, dude. I don’t care if we’re young, or whatever else you were saying. It’s about fucking time, don’t you think?”

Chris laughs weakly. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I kind of thought so too.” He sniffles, and glances at the laptop. “I’m going to murder you if yours is also a proposal.”

“It’s not,” Josh assures him. “Actually, it’s kind of lame, compared to… that.”

“Nothing you do is lame,” Chris says. “Except everything, I guess. But show me.”

Josh, still high on adrenaline and nerves, puts the box and the business card away, his hands trembling only a little, and opens his laptop. They settle against the headboard, leaning against their pillows. With Chris watching, Josh navigates over to his video folder and opens the right one. Before it can start playing, he hits pause.

“Okay,” he says. “So. I kind of had no fucking clue what to get for you, right? But I was shopping yesterday, and this one dude gave me an idea.”

“Right,” Chris says slowly.

“So,” Josh says again. “This is just… us. This is us.”

He can feel Chris frown, but before he can ask, Josh hits play and the video starts rolling.

The black fades into a shot of Josh, aged eight. He’s missing one tooth, but is nevertheless grinning proudly at the camera, eyes lit up.

“What’s got you smiling like that, honey?” His mother’s voice asks from behind the camera.

“Chris is coming over,” Josh tells the camera. “He’s gonna spent the night.”

“And that’s nice?” His mom prods.

Josh nods with enthusiasm. “It’s never boring with Chris,” he says. “He promised we can swap comics, but he’ll probably forget to take them with him anyway.” Young Josh pauses. “I don’t mind, though. I don’t need the comics.”

It cuts to a clip from high school, with Sam filming Josh struggling with his tuxedo. He’s trying to tie his tie, frowning heavily at the mirror.

“D’you need help?” Sam asks, clearly amused. “I’m gonna send this to Chris.”

Josh quickly looks up at her. “Don’t you dare,” he says. “This is so embarrassing, Jesus, I can’t even tie a fucking tie–”

There’s some faint rustling as Sam moves around. “Why didn’t you just wear a clip-on?” She asks. “It’s not like no one else does.”

Josh mumbles something while setting up a tutorial on his phone.

“What was that?” Sam asks.

“I said,” Josh says, louder, “that I want this to be perfect. It’s what Chris deserves for putting up with my bullshit.”

Sam goes quiet for a while. “I don’t think he cares about the tie,” she eventually says. “I think it’s about who’s wearing it. And I think he loves that guy a lot, his bullshit and all.”

Josh glances back at her with an unreadable expression. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I do.”

Josh stays quiet for a few seconds. Then: “I think maybe you’re right.”

It fades into a short montage of Chris and Josh watching the TV, their faces lit up by the screen. It’s almost like a time lapse, moving from one year to another – there’s a noticeable point where they start holding hands.

There’s a fade to black, and then Jessica’s face takes up the screen. She’s young and grinning, the corners of her eyes crinkled. “I stole Chris’ phone,” she whispers loudly. “We’re playing spin the bottle, and I think if we play this right – shut _up_ Michael, it _is_ cute – I think if we play this right, we can get them to finally make out.”

She angles the camera towards Michael. “The UST is strong,” he agrees.

Josh can’t help but snort a little as he watches Jessica come back to the room, just in time as Emily strategically helps the bottle move ten inches further and settle on Josh. Chris flushes bright red and fixes his glasses, muttering something the phone doesn’t pick up, but he’s drowned out by the rest of them chanting, “Do it, do it, do it!”

It’s awkward and hesitant, but Chris leans closer to Josh, his eyes asking a million questions that Josh remembers registering, and then swiftly dismissing as soon as their lips meet.

The footage gets shaky as Jessica starts yelling in excitement, and the video cuts to their prom. They’re slow dancing to A Thousand Years, lost in their own world – Chris tugs at Josh’s tie, and says something that makes Josh grin.

“Look at them,” Emily whispers. “How fucking sickening, in the best way possible.”

Another cut, and it’s Chris’ 17th birthday. He’s blowing the candles on a cake, and Josh whispers something in his ear – a bad joke, if he remembers right – and Chris turns bright red, shaking his head at Josh. It doesn’t stop him from leaning in for a kiss, though – their first coming out moment – and whoever was filming turns the camera towards Hannah, who’s smiling smugly as Beth reluctantly hands her money over their bet.

The video plays through more memories, jumping back and forth between the years, as Donna Lewis plays on in the background. Josh is nervously biting his lower lip, his fingers strumming the edge of his laptop. He doesn’t look at Chris, who isn’t saying a word. Josh can’t tell whether it’s a good silence or not.

The final shot is of Chris, hugging Josh after he’s agreed to move in with him. A voice over from Chris, aged ten, plays in the background. “Forever,” he proclaims confidently. “That’s how long I’m gonna be friends with Josh.”

The video ends, and Josh closes the screen before turning hesitantly towards Chris.

Chris is staring at the laptop, his expression indecipherable. Slowly, his gaze slides towards Josh, and as soon as their eyes meet, his face splits into a wide grin. Before Josh can ask him what he thought of the video, he’s being tackled into a hug by Chris, who buries his nose in the crook of his neck.

Josh wraps his arms automatically around Chris, blinking a little from the impact. “You liked it?”

“Did I like it?” Chris asks, laughing a little. He pulls back, but not far away – he leans his forehead against Josh’s, their noses brushing. “Josh. _Josh_.”

“Yeah?” Josh asks, but there’s something in Chris’ tone – something so warm and happy – that he allows himself to break into a smile as well. “You think I have a career in the film industry, then?”

“I think,” Chris says, “that that’s a pretty good Oscar contender for The Picture That Won Chris’ Heart.”

Josh can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. “Oh, you think? Still going to be my friend forever?”

Chris kisses him, and morning breath or no, it’s a good fucking kiss, Josh thinks. “Fiancé,” Chris corrects. “And then your husband. How’s that?”

“Yeah,” Josh agrees, a little breathless. “Yeah, I think I can live with that.”


End file.
